The Ring
by musicnlyrics
Summary: After Angel is rescued from the demon fighting ring, he can't help but take a few moments to reflect on one of the people who got him out. Revamped and reposted. : Rated T for very light use of language.
1. Angel

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners, and the author claims no ownership of anything except the original storyline. No profit is made and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: A quick little note to tell you of the setting: Season 1, post **_**The Ring**_**. A simple, sweet little thing..Angel thinking about a certain brunette. APOV. Obviously pre-non-relationship, seeing as they never got together (I'm still working on the letter of outrage to J. Whedon and Co.), but I couldn't resist adding some light flirting and a hint of promise, even though it's a smidge too early for the series itself. That's why it's called **_**fiction.**_

_**Thanks go out to **_**cmol8806 **_**for pushing me to post. :) She rocks.**_

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Angel sat in his usual setting of dark and gloom, mulling over what had recently happened. Aside from the residual pain of his recent foray into his own world of demons, the only pain that he could brood on was that of killing demons who had done nothing but get caught in the tangled web of two very cunning spiders.

Though he knew it was wrong to do so, Angel prided himself for being able to ferret out the truth of matters that are usually invisible to the eyes of others, even the eyes of those in the world he lived in as a demon. This facet of himself was the reason he was angry at the fact that he felt he should have known better, exercised better and wiser judgment, rather than plundering ahead at every opportunity to attempt to redeem himself from his past. He knew Wesley had such an ability, but the man had no confidence in himself. Cordelia, also, had the ability to smell out when something had been hit with "whammy." And money, but that was neither here nor there.

Cordelia. The woman-child Angel had befriended (much to his surprise and, sometimes, exasperation) was a breath of fresh air, even to one who has no breath nor a need for air. She was, as Doyle mentioned when she was first hired, his personalizing factor: the connection he needed to the world of humans, a world he had not truly been a part of in over two hundred years. Her irritating yet endearing habits left Angel smiling in wonderment, and her statements and way of thinking was a cross between bluntness and single-entendre, as Wesley had stated. He could easily see why she would be unfavorable to the idea of tact and discretion: the woman was truth on legs.

The sounds of the fighting arena, the cheering fans of such an ugly sport, and the seemingly endless calls of, "Slaves!" resonated inside Angel's head, driving out most every thought of Wesley and Cordelia. With the sounds came visuals: images Angel would rather not see at all, let alone a second time. The feel of the band around his wrist was a ghost feeling...he knew it wasn't there, yet he could still feel the silky smooth texture of the silver cuff as if it had never come off.

With the thoughts of the cuff, his thoughts once again circled back to Cordelia's sharpness. The ingenuity of her actions left him stunned: not only did he find out that she had come up with "the key to the key," which had helped Wesley come up with the actual key that unlocked every band in use, but of procuring the cuff in the first place. As Wesley had been able to describe very little to him, not having realized she had taken one until after they had exited the building, he could give Angel little to no detail as to how the feat was managed. Angel smiled slightly (though more than he usually allowed himself, feeling comfortable in the quiet, private darkness) as he remembered the forced and awkward conversation he and Cordelia had shared.

_Angel found her at the coffee maker, muttering a few choice words about the machine. Apparently, the "damn coffee machine can't even make a damn decent cup of coffee. Damn piece of...Angel!" Cordelia cut herself off as her boss sidled up to her, careful to avoid the small patch of sunlight streaming through the window and onto the floor. Angel could tell that she was beginning to get used to him being silent, as she neither flinched, jumped, nor squealed in surprise...he'd have to work on that._

_"Cordelia, what did that poor coffee pot ever do to you?" Angel couldn't help but tease._

_"It's not making me my coffee. I like it a certain way, and it's just not up to par. You should buy an espresso machine, like the one in the coffee shop a few blocks down," came the reply, a perfectly sincere look on her face. Angel knew that she meant every word she said. He also knew that she had no expectations of him actually doing so. After Doyle gave her the visions, Angel began noticing a bit of a change in the young woman, a new quality that she persistently tried to play close to the vest. Compassion._

Angel realized that she was genuinely concerned for him, evidence showing that she was willing to part with such an important piece of her life for him. The "key to the key," as Wesley called it, was a piece of hair from the tail of the palomino she had in Sunnydale, before her parents' tax fraud (and subsequent evasion) became known to the IRS. Cordelia had few possessions from that life, and what she did have she kept very close to herself, sometimes literally. Angel knew that the horse hair in question had previously inhabited a charm on a bracelet she wore, signifying that it meant something very dear to her. Angel would always be reminded of that sacrifice she made for him when he needed it the most.

Impressed with her selflessness, Angel felt a strange sensation in his chest. He had been experiencing it more and more frequently, usually when he was around Cordelia and at times like this: random, unsuspecting moments in time when he least expected it, though Cordelia was usually the cause of the stirring. Angel could only describe the feeling to himself, and even then not very well. It was almost as if his undead heart was trying to come back to life. He remembered how it felt and sounded, even if he purposely made it so others wouldn't, and even this fluttering, shadow of the feeling was enough to shock Angel out of the usually dark haze he presided in, even if it was only in his own company.

At another recent memory he linked with the strange flutterings, Angel allowed his smile to become fuller than it already was.

_"Umm...Cordelia?" Angel started as he walked into the main part of the office, unsure of how to proceed._

_"Hmm?" Cordelia answered, content to continue laying on the couch, basking in the light glow of sunlight shining through the thin curtains hanging in front of the window. It was enough to prevent her sun-avoiding boss from combusting into flames, and yet also enough to allow her to feel the warm, lazy feeling that lounging in the sun provided._

_Angel cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of what he was doing. He was exceedingly grateful that she had yet to open her eyes, as he was desperately trying to get the words out. "Why, umm..." he began. "Why did you give up your last tie to your palomino? I know he was important to you..."_

_At first, the only reply he received was a small smile. "Angel." The word was spoken as a patient explanation. "The key phrase there is 'was important.' Past tense. You are far more important to me now. Present tense." That was followed by a wide smile, one that seemed to be reserved for a very select few. Angel had been on the receiving end more and more often lately, and he had even seen her grant the privilege of the vision to Doyle once or twice. Angel was unsure if Wesley had been deemed worthy of the smile, but he really had no idea._

Angel smiled almost as brightly himself at the memory of the explanation. It was a simple one, and left so much unsaid, but he would accept Cordy's answer.

For now.

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**A/N: Yes, there's another note. I usually don't put author's notes at the beginning of a piece, but I felt it needed for this one. It's a short, sweet little thing that popped into my head and demanded to be written. Oh, how fickle these stories can be.**

**I plan on writing a second chapter to this, getting a little bit of Cordelia's POV on the subject. However, I do not anticipate it being written within the next few days, although it is entirely possible. To err on the side of caution, I would say not to expect it soon, and leave it at that. I will, however, leave this story as incomplete, because there WILL be a second chapter. I have the beginnings of it, but I'm not certain as to when it will be finished. Summer classes are killer.**

**I'd like to thank everyone for reading this, and I'd like to invite you to take a minute (but probably less) to leave a comment. It is every author's hope to write to the liking of the audience, but how can any of us hope to know what our audience likes if we are not told by the audience themselves? Therefore audience (whomever you may be), I would love to hear your thoughts.**


	2. Cordy

**Disclaimer: The author claims no ownership of any recognizable feature in this story, and relinquishes all but the original aspects to their rightful owners. No financial profit is made, and no copyright infringement is intended. The author asks that her audience be courteous and respect her creative authority.**

_**Thanks go out to **_**cmol8806. **_**She's officially an Angel/Cordy shipper, now.**__**:D**_

Cordelia looked through the windows into Angel's inner office, and smiled. She knew that he would end up brooding about something, especially given the difficult situation their last case had put him in. Cordelia had assumed that the vampire was beginning to become Broody Boy, as she dubbed him (especially in times like this), but then he smiled. He actually _smiled_.

_He's got a great smile. He ought to do _that _more often._

Cordelia knew she could stand here and not get caught, so long as Wesley didn't come up behind her and ruin the moment by talking. She quite enjoyed studying her boss - not many girls can say they work for a total hottie..and Cordelia had absolutely no problem admitting (to herself, and only herself) that he was indeed a hottie. She remembered some of the first words that came to mind when she first saw him up close:

_Hello, Salty Goodness._

How true it still is.

Brought back to the present by the front door opening, Cordelia knew Wesley had stepped in. She turned around and looked at him for a brief second, made a comment on his Watcher-esque wardrobe, warned him to leave the light off, and turned back to the dark window in front of her. If she stood still, she believed that even with his vampy senses, Angel would not be able to see her very well, seeing as she had darkened the room she was in, to further ease her spying.

Wesley walked up behind her, careful not to trip on anything, and whispered, "Why are you staring into Angel's office window?"

"Geez, Wesley, could you whisper a bit louder? I don't think the people two blocks over heard you," she said. "I'm spying on Angel. He's supposed to be brooding, but he's smiling. Smiling is not what the vampire does when brooding. He's not brooding."

Throughout the exchange, Cordelia didn't turn her head. She kept her eyes focused on the face she could barely make out from the light outside the front office window, and saw his smile widen. Unnerved, she could take it no longer.

Opening the door, she marched in and demanded, "Why are you smiling, Mr. I'm-_supposed_-to-be-Broody-Boy?" Now that she was in the room, Cordelia saw no reason to continue to whisper.

Angel looked up at her, seemingly jolted from his...musings, since he wasn't technically brooding...and let the smile fall from his face, a seemingly innocent look upon his features.

Anticipating his denial, Cordelia cut Angel off before he could speak and said, "You weren't brooding. I can tell when you're brooding, and you were _not_ brooding. What's the deal?"

"Cordelia," Angel tried, without luck of stopping her.

"You always brood! Did you get a supply of bad blood? Are you getting some sort of weird vampire sickness?"

"Cordelia," Angel tried again.

"Are you going to die? Will I be out of a job? I realize that someday soon I will, indeed, become a star, but until then, I have bills to pay, and you're the one paying them, buster, so if you think that you're allowed to die you've got another thing coming! It's not going to happen if I have anything to say about it..."

"CORDY!"

During her increasingly panicked rant, Cordelia noticed neither of her boys coming to stand in front of her, Angel finally grabbing her by the shoulders and cutting her off, causing a gasp to break free from her lips, having gone on without many substantial breaths.

"No, I wasn't brooding. I was thinking and remembering some things. My blood supply is just fine. No, I have not contracted some weird vampire sickness, nor am I aware of any in existence. Yes, your job is safe, and I am not going to die, so stop worrying, okay?"

Cordelia took several deep breaths, and finally realized how close she was to the vampire. A closeness, in fact, that would have wigged her out not two years ago, while she was still in high school. What was stranger, to her at least, was that she found she didn't mind the fact. Of course, that didn't mean that she had to let it be a known fact...

Ripping herself away from Angel's hands, Cordelia began pacing. She knew that if she said something about what Angel was 'thinking and remembering,' she'll never ever know. She also knew that there was a _slight_ (slight meaning absolute) chance that Angel will never offer up that information willingly...

_Best to let him think I've forgotten it..._

Calling upon her mega-watt smile, sure to dazzle any specimen of the opposite sex, Cordelia nodded once, turned around, and went back into the office proper, intending to finish her filing before she left for her apartment and Dennis. How the ghost always knew just how hot to make her bubble baths, she would never know, but she certainly wouldn't complain about it tonight. Only a day after saving Angel from the demon fighting ring, with only an hour's nap, her muscles were still singing (more like shouting) their protests to being in use for so long. A bubble bath was _just _what she needed right now.

Cordelia noticed the men following her into the front office a few minutes later, Wesley to clamor on about whatever new information he had acquired about whatever new big bad they would need to fight, and Angel to listen and think. Pausing in her filing for just a moment, Cordelia knew that, in that moment, they became a family. Then, a thought struck her, and brought a faint smile to her lips.

_Did Angel call me Cordy?_

**A/N: A chapter in CPOV, as promised. I want to apologize for taking so long to update. I know a month is a long time, and I hate it when stories aren't updated either, but I don't want to bother you with excuses. All I ask is that you be patient for the next part of the story, as well.**

**Yes, the next part. I'm labeling this piece as 'Complete,' but I plan on making a companion ****piece to this in Wesley's POV. :) I'm excited for it.**

**I'd like to thank everyone for reading this, and I'd like to invite you to take a minute (but probably less) to leave a comment. It is every author's hope to write to the liking of the audience, but how can any of us hope to know what our audience likes if we are not told by the audience themselves? Therefore audience (whomever you may be), I would love to hear your thoughts.**


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